


A Mark

by AutumnQuest



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, High Warlock of Brooklyn Magnus Bane, M/M, POV Alec Lightwood, POV Magnus Bane, Self Confidence, Self-Acceptance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-09-27
Packaged: 2020-02-15 15:47:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18672727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AutumnQuest/pseuds/AutumnQuest
Summary: Magnus has an exceptionally hard time practising careful magic but the payoff is worth it."The High Warlock wasn’t the High Warlock for no reason. It was because of his ingenuity, his power, his strength, his exceptional good looks. But right now, his hand was shaking over the copper cauldron, thumb and ring finger pinching the salt crystals possibly a little too much. Sweat, dripping down his neck."- BONUS Chapter - A Mark II - Alec POVDoes Alec still need an excuse to see Magnus? Does Magnus want to see Alec again after that kiss? Alec can’t help but overthink things but he’s ready to just live his life and well, he kissed him!"Alec lay in bed with his phone on his chest internally debating whether to delete Magnus’ very provocative messages and his lame, bland responses or keep them as a mini rebellion. He tapped the case, thinking about what to respond after the Warlock's last message. "What else can those Angelic lips do?""





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Special thank you to my Beta Reader - ToughPaperRound - [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToughPaperRound/) \- [Tumblr](https://toughpaperround.tumblr.com/)

Magnus was leaning on his kitchen counter watching the liquid bubble away in the copper cauldron. He was waiting for the right moment to add the salt crystals. His excessively ringed hand hovered over the steam, thumb and ring finger pinching some salt. As he waited, he noticed his thumb's black nail varnish was chipped which made him grin. Finally, an excuse to go get pampered.

The bubbles were boiling away rapidly, the liquid frothing over the sides. As one big bubble popped over the rim, he released his fingers and jumped back to the opposite cabinet shielding his chest. The many metal ornaments adorning his belt tinkered away. A painful stab shot through his left leg as something on his belt ripped skin.

But alas, no explosion. He was confused, everything was right? Where was the smoke? The bang? The drama? He rubbed his hand over his stinging thigh leaving a small line of blood across his fingers.

Chairman sat at the end of the counter lazily rolling over, mockingly meowing at him. Magnus cautiously stepped forward, pinching some extra salt crystals and threw them in to be sure the potion had had enough.

Almost instantaneously smoke filled the room, a mini mushroom cloud pluming over the counter. The Warlock laughed at the cat as it shot up and ran off into the living room. “Serves you right for mocking me!”

The cauldron was simmering down fast. With a flick of his wrist, the flames went out. Just as he reached for the ladle to scoop the potion from the bottom before it evaporated there was a sharp knock at the door.

He groaned, tapping his foot on the counter's kick board – impatient – but continued without haste. Up until he heard Chairman meowing furiously, scratching at the wood and hissing.

“Wait! Please wait!” he knew who it was; it was Alexander.

Chairman only reacted like that when the Shadowhunter was at the door because like himself he had taken a liking to the young man. At least he and his cat could agree on one thing. The young Nephilim was a very, very welcome and much appreciated guest.

He ladled the potion into a separate marble bowl to chill. Watching keenly to make sure the surface of the potion stilled to reflect the pots and pans on the ceiling. He swiftly began counting back from 100 as he stripped his tool belt and apron, pulling the goggles from his head and ruffling his hair back into place. He checked the time. It was 9:27 in the morning so messy hair was acceptable.

56, 55, 54… 50… 47, 46, 45…

He ran his hands over his plain t-shirt and thanked the Heavens he had taken the risk of wearing his beloved pair of chain detailed, patched cargo pants and Doc Martin purple boots. As far as he was concerned the plain top was to balance out the drama at the bottom. He wondered if Alec would even care to notice.

29, 28, 27…

The solution was still – thankfully – tranquil but it would be his luck that it would curdle as he opted to go flirt instead of follow his duties as the High Warlock. He quickly turned to his reflection to see his makeup had smeared by the goggles. With an urgent moan, he snapped his fingers before each eye and it was wonderfully corrected with one of his signature glamours.

3, 2, 1… “Coming!”

He jogged to the door, shoving the attention-seeking cat out of the way. He threw the door open with flair about to proclaim his magnificence and declare that his much sought-after personal – private – time shouldn’t be wasted.

As expected, Alexander stood in the doorway, not so expected was the one stood in front of him. Jake Wayward or something.

“Good morning High Warlock! We’re here on Clave Business.” The cocky Shadowhunter who Magnus knew to be Alec’s parabatai didn’t ask if he could come in but assumed _‘Clave Business’_ was enough of an invitation. He took a self-confident step into the apartment but was abruptly stopped by a barrier. Jace couldn’t move, he gasped at the sudden icy chill and stepped back looking around the frame, his face suggested no-one had ever refused him before.

Before Magnus could chew him out, Alexander took a step forward and started to make amends. “We’re sorry High Warlock, Jace can be quite fired up when it comes to work. Are we allowed in to talk about Clave Business or is this an inappropriate time? I apologise again for our rudeness.” Alec looked at him worried, like some big offense had happened and it was all his fault. His hand lingering over Jace’s forearm to stop him making any more rash moves.

“Josh is the rude one – I didn’t invite him in. Do you think a Warlock's home isn’t warded?”

“ _Jace_ ,” Jace hissed, “Can we then?”

Alec gave a sharp look to his parabatai and rolled his eyes to the ceiling.

“He sure can!” Magnus gave Alec a once over. He was traditional in all black and adorned with deadly, heavenly weapons. He had a baggy holey jumper on that had seen better days before it was forced to resemble clothes. Magnus could see the shimmer of glamoured straps criss-crossing over it, which meant he had his signature bow and quiver. Alexander blushed and looked away. “You may both enter.”

He turned away, strolling back to the kitchen to check the potion and either he had rushed his counting or he had added too much salt because it was rippling in the marble, bubbling up and down. He sighed, the blood on his hand, on the tip of his thumb. The sting on his leg was gone and forgotten. He wiggled viciously in annoyance.

Serenely turning back to the living room and the two Shadowhunters now stood in it. He kicked his feet one at a time, each boot disappearing and reappearing on the shoe stand by the door, Alec smiled so Magnus smiled too. It’s the simple things in life.

“How can I help then? Will I be paid this time?” he sat on the sofa cross legged, signalling for them to sit too. Jace dropped in to the cushions, planting his boots on the coffee table but Alec continued to wander – looking at the various objects he kept on display.

A ball of white shot past him, quick as lightning, determined on its target and began to rub up against the Shadowhunter's legs. Alec looked down surprised before slowly leaning his tall frame down to pick the cat up. To top it off the damned flirt meowed, rubbing its head into Alexander’s chest rolling in his arms so his face was looking up at him like an innocent babe.

Magnus tutted, “that cat is an attention whore Alexander don’t pay it any heed, it’s always after something.”

Alec looked at him, his white fingers lost in Chairman’s mane giving the ball of fluff a good scratch, “is this the same cat you threw a party for?”

“We have a love/hate relationship. We have a lot in common.”

“You’re an attention whore?” Jace quipped.

Magnus slowly turned his attention back to him, smirking, “if you have the right countenance yes.”

Alec looked like he didn’t know where to put himself so he soldiered on with the one thing that made sense to him. “The Clave needs to know information about the Herondale family. William Herondale, you had a relationship with him along with Tessa Gray? Miss Gray has been contacted but we haven’t had a response yet.”

“Why?”

“That’s Clave business.”

Alexander looked like he would have answered but Jace once again stepped in. Alec went back to looking at his Nepalese Mask likely trying to read the plaque underneath. The damned traitor cat purring away in his arms, content and self-satisfied that he had one-upped his master. Zero to One.

“When it involves my friends it’s also mine,” Magnus replied coolly. It couldn’t be too bad because Zachariah hadn’t sent him a message or came to him personally. He wasn’t surprised Tessa hadn’t responded either if they hadn’t explained why.

“This is to do with the Clave. It goes above friendship.”

“How interesting James – what else does the Clave go above if friendship has to bow before it?”

“Jace –”

“Whatever. The point is you want my help, you tell me why. Alec?”

Alec turned to him blank faced and searching, he was either so used to Jace’s behaviour or simply in a world of his own looking at his Peruvian art. Ah, Peru…

Alexander was sharp, however, and cottoned on quick. “We don’t even know –”

“Alec!”

Alec turned to him sharply clutching Chairman to his chest, the cat licked his chin side-eyeing Magnus. Zero to Two. Magnus quickly flashed him his eyes but the cat stared back undeterred. “What? There’s no point in lying. We don’t know, we just know that the Clave needs some information about William, the Inquisitor is asking.”

“Imogen Herondale?” Magnus had had nothing to do with the Herondales since (unless you counted Tessa) but he was aware of their family tree and the tragedy of Stephen, Céline and their unborn. Magnus thought it was long over and fully investigated but Imogen was a tenacious woman. “What information?”

“Anything.”

“Helpful.”

Alec moved to put Chairman down, but the cat hung on to his already worn jumper, claws digging in. He chuckled, scratching the lazy cat behind the ears, distracting him. The fool fell for it and let go, prancing over to Magnus and sitting in his lap, proud of himself. Magnus stroked his bushy tail, semi-proud of his good taste in guests.

Jace stood up abruptly and stormed to the door, apparently expectant that his lackey would follow but Alec didn’t. Magnus turned his attention back to the young man, whose eyes were following his hand on Chairman’s back.

“We’ll return tomorrow Magnus if that’s alright? You can think of anything that may or may not be important about William Herondale. We’ll start the report then. Sorry to inconvenience you.”

Magnus stood to walk Alec out, Jace had already made it down the stairs. “Make it just you? He’s so stroppy and not that great to look at.” Which was of course a lie. Jace was handsome – blond and gold and shining but not that great in personality. Magnus had met many Jaces in his life time but not many Alecs. He’d lie again however if it meant seeing the instant rush of blood to Alexander's cheeks, the man spluttering, shocked.

Turning in the doorway, his ears red and his cheeks pink. Alec’s eyes were wide as if he didn’t quite believe it so Magnus winked at him which caused a spectacular reaction. He blinked several times, choking a bit and shook his head like he could shake away the compliments before smiling shyly, secretively and blushing some more.

“We’ll see you tomorrow, thank you.”

“No – Thank you.”

Alec stumbled on the first step but sadly didn’t turn around to show him his reaction. Chairman sat at the corner watching him go.

\---

The High Warlock wasn’t the High Warlock for no reason. It was because of his ingenuity, his power, his strength, his exceptional good looks. But right now, his hand was shaking over the copper cauldron, thumb and ring finger pinching the salt crystals possibly a little too much. Sweat, dripping down his neck. The liquid frantically bubbling, waiting, waiting…

Chairman was grooming himself in the most ludicrous manner on the counter, tail flicking ever so close to the flames under the cauldron. It made Magnus sweat more but he couldn’t get this wrong again, so his eyes darted between the tail and the bubbles, the tail and the bubbles, the tail and the bubbles…

Thankfully for his sanity Chairman shot off the counter obviously satisfied with his beautiful self, skipping away as if the whole show was purposely to taunt his Warlock. Which knowing the cat, was probable.

Magnus’ eyes focused unblinking on the cauldron rim waiting for the bubble to pop over it, his hand a nervous wreck above, disturbing the steam.

His cat startled him, insistently meowing and scratching at something in the living room. Magnus dropped the salt, the explosion was minuscule, a small pointless puff of smoke, a wheeze of air released from the liquid. Ruined again. Almost immediately after there was a knock at the door, a light uncertain knock.

Wavering patience and wrecked nerves made Magnus portal to the door and swing it open. Chairman shot out and shamelessly wrapped himself around Alec’s leather boots, pawing at his black jeans. Zero to Three.

Alec stammered, stunned, “Is this a bad time again?”

He was alone. The parabatai hadn’t come. Alec stood nervously in the doorway looking down at his feet, the beast's white fur rubbing off on his jeans. Magnus looked down at himself. His filthy apron stained with god knows what liquids and herbs, his tool belt heavy around his waist. His wand, his spoons and measures, his vials. All his magical utensils. It was obviously a bad time but he laughed, “of course not! Come in, please.”

As he stepped back, he rid himself of the old apron and unclipped the Warlock belt, hanging it on the coat stand like it wasn’t dangerous. He turned back to Alec feeling like he was in a fish bowl then remembered he had the goggles on. If he ripped them off his hair would be a tornado instead he stylishly used them to push back his fringe in as natural a movement as possible. Running his hand in the back of his hair hoping it was staying down or looked deliberately messy. It was after all 10.17 in the morning… not too bad a time to still be a mess.

Alec was staring at his face, no expression but intent eyes searching over him.

“Is there something on my face?!” was the little explosion worse than he thought? Were his eyebrows branching up from pushing his goggles back?

“No.”

Magnus turned to the hall mirror surprised to see no makeup. No glamour either. He was glad he wasn’t one to blush much or he would be red from embarrassment showing Alec his mark. As he turned back, his mark disappearing again, he hoped that Alexander didn’t fear him now. There was little point in putting his face on so Alec could have the rare experience of a bare-faced High Warlock. Magnus also didn’t want to use magic, worried it would push Alec away from him further.

But Alec was smiling – though it faltered a bit when he looked into his eyes.

“Nice slippers.” Alec pointed one long finger to his feet and sure enough he had fluffy pink and purple monster feet with glitter talon slippers on, making his feet look 3 times bigger. To top it off he had his unicorn pyjama pants on with his care bear, Bedtime Bear, top.

“Thank you. Walmart,” Alec looked at him confused, “I’ll take you one day. It’s an adventure of its own.”

“Right –” Alec straightened full Shadowhunter mode, “do you have time to talk about William Herondale?”

“Do you really not know what it’s about?”

Alexander sighed. He looked around the apartment as if to see if anyone was present who shouldn’t be, then relaxed. Magnus waved to the sofa, he disappeared his slippers to the bedroom and tucked his feet under himself while Alec sat on the edge of the seat, one hand on the coffee table. He looked poised to run. “I think it’s to do with Stephen and Céline. Why? I don’t know.” He sat back a bit into the arm of the sofa when perhaps he realised he was safe, facing his body to Magnus his one leg pulled up. “I think it’s to do with their unborn child.”

“It probably is,” Magnus conceded, “Imogen has never believed their child died. I don’t quite get the need for information about William though.”

Alec shrugged pulling at the loose thread on his sleeve. “Céline died with the child, I don’t get why she thinks otherwise.”

“The baby _found_ was just slightly too big for Stephen and Céline’s unborn. That’s it, that’s what she’s going on.”

“That’s really sad.”

“It is.”

Alec looked over his shoulder and whispered a little unsure, “I like your Nepalese mask.”

“You know it’s Nepalese?” Magnus was pleasantly amazed, watching the young man a little more closely as he confessed to recognising the Nepalese script, a slight blush up his neck as he asked him where he – himself – was from.

Magnus laughed, “Indonesia.”

“Indonesia. Nepal, Peru, Paris, London, New York.” Alec smiled at him astonished, his eyes full of wonder at all the stories he could tell, “I’ve only been to Idris.”

“That’s a shame, the world's much bigger.”

“Where do you keep all your stuff? How do you choose what to show?”

“It depends on the theme I’m going for.”

“There’s nothing Indonesian out though?”

Magnus’ eyebrows shot to his hairline and he exaggeratedly flashed his hands up and down himself blue sparks flying from his fingertips, dancing around his head. Alexander followed his hands, looking him over with those earnest eyes. The gesture made Alec laugh and lean back more relaxed.

“I don’t have much from my birth country. When I left, I ended up setting up in Nepal for a bit before moving into Mongolia.” The Warlock confessed, opening up a little to the Nephilim was unexpectedly easy. Alec sat and listened intently, his eyes never leaving Magnus’ face. He was expectant, clearly waiting for more, hundreds of questions burning on his face. But Magnus didn’t wish to speak anymore, not until he knew Alexander better, “William is long dead so what counts as information?”

The Shadowhunter snapped out of it and seemingly went right back into work mode, which was rather a shame as the relaxed posture he had slowly gained cracked back, rigid. “I honestly don’t know,” he chuckled, “I’m wasting your time. The Clave is wasting our time too. They won’t tell us. Perhaps I should just say to the Inquisitor that you would talk to her directly?”

“Would I?”

“Could you?”

“For you Alexander – sure.”

“What were you doing before I turned up?” he pointed to the goggles.

Magnus thought of the future third attempt to make the damn potion. He remembered Alec’s smile at his boots yesterday. “You want to see?” something caught in his throat. He was worried that seeing his unfortunate mark might have scared Alec slightly but his childish joy at the simple blue sparks earlier eased his worry a little.

His face lit up, his eyes darting to the kitchen. Magnus stood and without needing to prompt him was followed by the young Nephilim. He took him to the back kitchen behind his Social Kitchen. Telling him as he went that he couldn’t throw such grand parties and have people in his Warlock’s Kitchen. However, he also couldn’t throw parties and not have a kitchen for the unsociable party goers to congregate in – rules of the party scene must be followed. Alec confessed he was that very kitchen sitter at parties.

The copper cauldron sat cold on the counter, he indicated for Alec to stand beside him and began the process for the third time. He cleaned the cauldron. Added water, Fay Blood, milk and stirred. Flames on, rosemary, stirring again. Tip from the old worn copper cauldron to new copper cauldron. Flames back on. Pinch of salt crystals. Wait…

Alexander stood beside him clearly not breathing too. Watching the bubbles like Magnus, but not knowing what he was waiting for. The bubbles brimmed in a frenzy, one big bubble was brewing, Magnus watched it intently. He was nervous. He didn’t want to fail in front of the Shadowhunter, Alec’s eyes so watchful, he whispered next to his ear. “When will your eyes change?”

Magnus nearly dropped the salt for a third time, side-eyeing Alec who was intently watching his eyes, waiting. “They don’t have to.”

“Oh –” Magnus could be wrong but he thought he heard a note of disappointment in his voice.

The bubble burst over the rim and Magnus released the salt. He grabbed Alec by the waist and agilely pulled him back. A puff and a mushroom explosion filled the room. Magnus flicked the flames out and poured the liquid into the marble bowl to cool, counting back from 100.

Alec tentatively stepped forward; Magnus could feel his leg against his through his pyjamas. Their sides touching, Alec was still seemingly holding his breath afraid to disturb anything. Eyes glued to the still liquid in the marble bowl.

It stilled, reflecting the ceiling above. Magnus fished around the cupboards for a cylindrical tube and using his magic funnelled the liquid into it, watching it slowly fill, silvery against the glass. He capped it, slipping in a thin tube with a pump top.

“Très magnifique!”

“What is it?” Alec was thrilled, which swelled pride in Magnus but he couldn’t help but blush a little.

“Shampoo.”

“Shampoo?”

“Yes Alexander, shampoo. How do you think I can have such luscious hair if not for a bit of fay magic and milk?”

Alexander froze – then burst into laughter before his very eyes, eyes watering, head back and forward. When he half stopped, still shaking with a little burst every now and again, he rubbed tears from the corners of his eyes. “Why does it explode then?”

“I –” the Warlock looked down at the shampoo bottle, “I don’t know.”

Alec started laughing all over again. This time not as long but it ended in stifled chuckling. Magnus couldn’t help but join in.

\---

Magnus stood in his hallway as Alec put his boots back on. He had insisted if he was staying for lunch he must at least look like he’s staying. Meaning the Shadowhunter took his boots off. Even his feet were scarred from runes to Magnus’ horrified surprise, his pale feet padding around his apartment with little silvery criss-crosses.

Alec stood up stamping his boots into place, in his hand a glass vial of Magnus’ shampoo. He placed it into his inside pocket and Magnus was thrilled to see a little bit of the man’s stomach, his shirt had a hole in it! He sighed at him exasperated.

“So – I can tell Imogen that you will talk to her?”

“Yes, you may.”

“Thank you, Magnus.”

They stood awkwardly; Magnus couldn’t remember the last time he had felt awkward around someone. He fidgeted a little, his feet cold on the floor. Then he had a thought, though it was a long shot, “you have to pay me for that shampoo.”

His hand went to the vial at his side, his eyes shocked, “How much?”

“Well –” the Warlock pondered, “I mean that was the third attempt to make it. You ruined the second this morning and the first the other day to be honest. I’ll have to make it a fourth time now. It’s a lot of work and magical concentration even if it’s only shampoo, magic isn’t free.”

Alec looked unsure whether he was being serious and panicked, he even went to pull the vial out of his jacket again. His slender hands were fumbling as he tried to give it back.

“I should think a kiss should do. Healing abilities and all that. Power to power, energy to energy etcetera.”

Alexander stared at him dumbfounded. He gaped like a fish, his eyes again searching the room as if someone else was there who could tell on him. His breathing had sped up and his ears were going pink. Pure fright flashed behind his eyes; a light sweat seemed to gleam on his neck.

“Maybe next time,” Magnus let him off. At least the Shadowhunter now bluntly knew his intent and couldn’t be fooled by his advances.

Alec turned instantly to the door like a cautionary motherly hand was guiding him out. His hand barely reaching the handle before he turned abruptly, his hands clasped together, his fingers worrying together in knots. “Really?”

It was Magnus’ turn to be stunned, he gave Alec a purposefully slow once over from his searching eyes to his worn boots and back to his blushing cheeks. “Absolutely yes.”

The Shadowhunter stepped forward so quickly it took all of Magnus’ will power not to instinctively step back. With barely a hand's breadth between them, Magnus could feel Alec’s breath across his cheeks. Alec’s thin scarf fluttering under his own. He noticed Alec had on a light smelling cologne which he thought odd considering his aversion to fashion. It was musky, not sprayed on today because it was too subtle. He took a deep breath of it, savouring his fortuitous luck.

“Are you sure?”

Magnus couldn’t believe the man before him didn’t believe his certainty. He stared Alec in the eyes for a long time before he spoke, “Yes.”

Alexander’s cool fingers came up to touch his face, he could feel them trembling ever so slightly. He leaned a little into them and watched intently as Alec slowly – calculatedly – brought his face closer to his. His breathing stuttering over his face, smelling of peppermint. Magnus didn’t move but carefully smiled, parting his lips a touch in invitation. He shifted a fraction to meet him.

Alexander went left and hugged him instead. Hard and tight. Magnus wrapped his arms around his back and held him.

“I’m sorry.”

Magnus smiled at his shoulder, feeling Alec’s chest moving on his in ragged breaths. “Please don’t apologise.”

“I just – can’t.”

“Can I then? Please.”

The Nephilim stiffened and carefully but very deliberately dragged his cheek across his to look into the Warlocks eyes. He nodded but Magnus waited until he verbalised it – “Yes.”

Magnus moved slowly but surely, putting his hand on Alec’s chest leaving his face free and open to turn away if he needed too. His lips gently brushed his, he held for a nanosecond before he put a delicate push into his lips and softly kissed him once, light and breathless. Bringing his hand up to rub his thumb over Alec’s ecstatic pulse at his neck. Once again he brushed his lips across his, feather light, and slowly backed away.

It was fleeting and short but sweet. Hopefully not too much but not too little to not entice him.

His eyes were closed. The hand clenched in Magnus’ shirt slowly relaxed until his palm was flat against his chest, and he smiled. Opening his eyes, he looked dizzy.

Alexander stepped back nodding, seemingly unable to talk. He turned to the door again and opened it, stepping into the porch. He turned back to Magnus, still smiling and the Warlock's heart stuttered as he watched the young man bite his lower lip, “Goodbye Magnus.”

He blinked, “Bye Alexander.”

He watched from where he stood in the hall until Alec had rounded the corner of the stairs and with a wave of his hand he shut the front door, spinning to turn to Chairman who had watched from the sofa. He stuck his tongue out at the cat, flashing his mark.

“Well - I kissed him!”


	2. A Mark pt.2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Does Alec still need an excuse to see Magnus? Does Magnus want to see Alec again after that kiss? Alec can’t help but overthink things, but he’s ready to just live his life and well, he kissed him!
> 
> "Alec lay in bed with his phone on his chest internally debating whether to delete Magnus’ very provocative messages and his lame, bland responses or keep them as a mini rebellion. He tapped the case, thinking about what to respond after the Warlock's last message. "What else can those Angelic lips do?""

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thank you to my Beta Reader - ToughPaperRound - [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToughPaperRound/) \- [Tumblr](https://toughpaperround.tumblr.com/)

_“Well – I kissed him!”_

**“Well – I kissed him!”**

“Well – I _kissed_ Him!”

Alec’s smile broadened as he rounded the corner hearing Magnus’ voice through the door, that phrase repeating over and over with each step. Was he being intentionally loud enough for him to hear or was that an accident? He skips down the rest of the stairs, lightheaded, dizzy – walking on air and resisting the urge to look back up at the loft window. Just in case, the Warlock is looking; just in case he seems desperate, in need and wanting.

He side-eyes a little, sharp pains shooting through his eyes as he badly tries not to turn his head and is only a little disappointed to not see anything but the light from the living room.

The walk home seemed shorter – he was sure the way didn’t shrink since this morning? His mood skyrocket high, he’s ready to walk the world and then some. He spent most of the walk reliving the moment Magnus’ lips marked his. He was kicking himself for letting his brain fizzle out and explode making his memory a smoky mess. Something told him to go back and ask for a do over, so he could remember it nano-second to nano-second.

It was fleeting, and short but sweet – that stood out the most to him. It wasn’t exactly what he expected from Magnus but what did he expect? It was his first kiss, _what did he expect?_

Magnus’ mouth was warm, his lips soft. It was enough thinking about it to make his lips tingle, and his cheeks heat. Magnus had marked him; it was a wound on his lips that would haunt him until the next time they kissed. It was a pressure that his mouth had never felt before and he wanted the weight, the fullness back on them.

Alec ran a finger over his own and found them lacking in warmth and softness. He’d have to ask Izzy to get him a Chapstick the next time she was out. If she asked, he would say he was fed up of cracked lips. Not that a handsome, powerful, Warlock had kissed him and he didn’t want to disappoint the second time.

The second time. Would there be? _Could there be?_

-

By the time he got to the Institute his mood took a drastic turn. Could there be a second time? What was the likelihood of Magnus Bane, the High Warlock of Brooklyn, kissing him again?

He flopped onto his bed defeated. He couldn’t even kiss Magnus himself, was it a _pity_ kiss? Perhaps that was why it was only short?

There was a tap on his door, but he refused to respond. Watching the shadow after some delay drift away without a second attempt. He didn’t want to speak to anyone, he was wrapped in self-loathing, bitterness, and haunted by the taste of Magnus’ spearmint lips. It couldn’t have been important either, because they didn’t knock again. They weren’t withering in anguish like he was.

Alec rolled over, a piercing pain shooting through his chest, he pulled out the bottle of shampoo from his breast pocket. Sitting up he unscrewed the top to smell it. It took him straight back to Magnus’ Warlock Kitchen. There was so much he wanted to learn about the man, so much he wanted to ask. Instead of texting him, he opted for a shower instead. That way he could test the shampoo and then text him his review of it.

Maybe using the shampoo in his current state wasn’t the best of ideas, because it made his mind wander. Alec cleaned his hair, full of the image of Magnus at work, feeling the swift press of his lips against his, and wondering – wantonly – what it would be like if it were less _swift_. He let his hand wander, his mind wandering too. His skin was on fire, his lips open and ready, torn apart by the idea of Magnus marking him deeper and for longer.

But again, his mood shifted.

The image of Magnus in the doorway flashed in his memory. Dishevelled, unicorn pyjamas with pink and purple monster slippers (that he was sure were meant for kids – Max had some? – which suggested Magnus had small feet, that was cute). Magnus’ magnetic Mark, golden and bright.

Those cat-like eyes, staring at him with seemingly no concern in the world. Piercing and vibrant, compelling. When he closed his eyes, he could see them clear as day. Imprinted on his mind, drawing him back in to look again.

The moment Magnus turned away and back was enough for them to disappear, a look of poorly concealed alarm colouring the Warlock’s face. Magnus clearly thought he disguised it well, rolling on like nothing had happened. But, Alec’s eyes were quick, he saw the worry across Magnus’ face. Alec couldn’t bring himself to say anything, to compliment him. When he thought he had an opportunity to fix it later in the kitchen, he found he didn’t, because his Mark wasn’t essential to magic.

Alec mentally kicked himself. That will be why they don’t kiss again, he knew it! He stared at his reflection in the mirror, annoyed with himself. He could barely remember the kiss because he couldn’t focus. He couldn’t freely let his desire rise without self-consciously pulling himself out of it. He couldn’t compliment the one man that took an interest in him.

There was a knock on his door again - perhaps it was important. Flustered, and frustrated, he yanked the door open taking his loathing out on the door frame. Clary gawked back at him. Alec clutched his towel tighter, and for some impulse crossed his arms, hugging his chest opting to glare at her.

Clary looked to the doorframe, embarrassed – “Sorry Alec, I just wanted to talk.”

“Come in then.” He raced to the bathroom, snagging his pjs on the way. He heard Clary shut the door, then the tired springs of the bed creaking twice as she must have attempted to sit quietly, but was startled. She still didn’t backout because the springs creaked again.

“What’s that smell?” she leaned towards the bathroom as he walked out, “It smells great.”

“ _My_ shampoo.”

She hummed, crossing her legs on his bed, slipping out of her slippers. It felt weird. Alec watched her as he towel dried his hair into some mess that will look half decent by the morning.

It was weird.

Too weird, having her in his room, they had barely spoken, if only about concerns of Jace and her inexperience. Which, he wouldn’t easily confess was because he was concerned for her safety in the field. He understood she was strong headed but strong headed didn’t mean _capable_ after only a few weeks of training that took _years_. Most thought he was just being mean to her for diverting his Parabatai’s attention, his crush. She thought it too. So, it was weird for her to be here. _What did she want?_

“How was Magnus?”

He froze, hands mid-scrunch in his hair, and gave her a wide-eyed _who are you talking about_ look. She simply sighed, “Alec, I’m not just a Shadowhunter. I’m a Mundane.”

To another, that statement would seem pointless, but to Alec he understood exactly what she was saying. She didn’t follow Clave Culture or societal rules, she was safe to talk to. “He was fine.”

“Good.”

The silence was awkward, it was filled with a weight that was lighter when the others were around. No one was there to lift it for them now. That weight was their differences and their one commonality - Jace - that had the potential to threaten everything. Perhaps it was his roller-coaster mood or his tiredness at not having a Non-Clave-Conditioned person to talk too.

“We kissed.” The weight was instantaneous the moment he thought of it. Silken soft and evening sunset warm. It hurt that weight, like an open wound, a burn. The only solution he could imagine was resealing it with Magnus on his lips again.

Clary smiled, it was slow and honest, she patted the bed beside her – “Really?” she squealed, “Oh my God Alec, that’s awesome! How? Tell me everything!”

Alec went to the door and locked it, before jumping on the bed. “Well – I don’t remember.” He laughed, angry at himself, conscious he was talking about something that he should be hiding.

“Oh, you were flustered, that’s so cute!”

He bristled at the word cute, but forgave her earnest joy for his happiness. “It was quick but – yeah.”

“What’s wrong?”

Clary wouldn’t be the first person he thought of to tell his problems too but she was the one person that was still detached enough for him to not fret over. “I saw Magnus’ Mark – I think he didn’t want me too.” She looked blank, “his Warlock Mark?”

“His cat eyes?” She queried, “but – you’ve seen them before?”

He had, but that was before getting closer, before Magnus had made a move and he responded with interest. No one thought, not even him, that he would move back. Now a Mark like that was the stark difference between them that could halt any further movements.

She nodded, her red hair falling in her face, she swept it back annoyed. “I get it. He’s a Downworlder, and that Mark proves it.”

He watched her fidget with her pjs, getting comfortable on his bed, in his life, in his drama. His mood flipped again; he was on edge for talking too much.

“Why are you here?” Clary sat straighter at his sudden question and mood. “I just – don’t understand why you of all people would be interested in this – or care – and we’ve never really spoken like this before.”

She bunched her hair, letting it drop down her back, fanning herself. “I want to be friends Alec. We both like Jace, I won’t hurt him and I definitely – definitely – won’t do anything to hurt you. When I heard from Izzy that you went to Magnus’ again, I thought that was an - - I haven’t been here long. But it was obvious from day one that this society is vastly different from the one I grew up in. Similar in some, archaic in others. If you grew up the way I did, you wouldn’t fear me for what I know, and I only know what I know because of the open society I was raised in.”

“It can’t be that easy in the Mundane world?” Alec said bitterly.

“No – it’s not. That’s a gross misinterpretation of the truth. But it is far easier than the Shadow World.” Clary pulled at his quilt throwing it away from herself, her cheeks were flushed, “The mundane world is in the 21st century – at least for the most part – whereas the Shadow World is like – in the 17th, give or take.  There’s a fair bit of progress needed.”

Alec laughed – “Tell me about it.” _Progress_ suggested they were moving at all.

“Alec – I’m sorry.”

“For?”

She didn’t have an answer.

“You haven’t done anything wrong but see Jace.” Alec stood and opened the window, “I’m sorry for being so off with you. But you have to understand, you don’t have experience Clary. You may be smart and strong but you are still a weak point when we are all in the field. Jace has so much faith in you – which is fine! But, I just worry for when you get tired quickly, or you don’t know how to counter something. You need more training. I’m not – I’m an older brother it’s my job to worry.” Alec chose to sit back on the floor, stretching out his legs. “I mean if you’re sorry about Jace, it’s fine. Jace is attractive, if a little arrogant. You can have him.” His mind wandered to Magnus.

“Magnus is attractive too.”

“Back off Fray, you can only steal one man from me!” they both laughed, Clary stretching out on his bed, arms dangling to the floor, her chin resting on the edge of his mattress.

“Thank you, Alec.” Neither said anymore, until at last Clary moved on, “You should find a way to tell Magnus you like his mark. If you do, that is?”

“I do,” Alec confessed, “his eyes are – magnetic.” He could see them every time he shut his own.

“Dreamy.”

Clary sniggered as Alec pointed at her with a warning look, “Watch it.”

“When will you see him again?”

“I don’t know,” he looked glum, “it’s not like I have a reason to go meet him again.”

She sat up, pulling at her hair again, fruitlessly fanning herself with her hand. He looked to the other window but there was no way to open that one, “You went to see him for a thing to help me, you went with Jace the other day for information – whether Jace knew it or not, he set up a third opportunity for you by being an ass. I’m sure a fourth will come along.”

“You know he didn’t have anything that would help you right?”

She smiled winking at him, “You know women meddle right?”

“You and Isabelle are diabolical. You should have been her sister,” Alec picked at his shirt, “I could just go around for no reason other than I want to – right?” he looked at her for answers.

“Yeah. You’ve kissed, just go around. You have his number?”

“From the first time, yes.” Alec smiled, remembering their hour-long conversation at near 4 in the morning after the Vampire, Henry’s, tragic situation. Magnus rambling about anything and everything while Alec fought sleep after a trying day. “I don’t text him much though.”

“Why?”

Alec looked to the floor, how would she understand that texting him was evidence, and digging himself a bigger hole to get out of? That he deleted the messages straight after because Magnus wasn’t subtle, because he was afraid of being caught? Perhaps his face said as much because she dropped it.

“You should just go around next time.”

“What is wrong with you? Stop flapping your hands.”

She gave him a small smile, a tired smile, “women’s week.”

Alec grimaced, weakly smiling back, “I don’t envy.”

-

Alec lay in bed with his phone on his chest internally debating whether to delete Magnus’ very provocative messages and his lame, bland responses or keep them as a mini rebellion. He tapped the case, thinking about what to respond after the Warlock's last message.

_What else can those Angelic lips do?_

He blushed again thinking of it. This was the perfect time to send back an equally provocative text but _what?_ His lips hadn’t done anything else, but kiss Magnus and they still felt the heat. He knew what else he dreamt of doing, and those things weren’t being put in a message because they weren’t Angelic. He rolled over, burying his face in his pillow, muttering how he was _being immature_ , and he was a _grown man who could do as he pleased_.

There was a tap on his door. By now he knew the single tap to be Clary, he shouted from the pillow for her to come in.

Jace had over the last week raised his eyebrows every time Clary and Alec were civil to each other, and was even grossly shocked when he saw Clary exit Alec’s room. Jace had mentioned _bro code_ and “not sharing” to which Alec had to painfully laugh. Clary found it amusing when he texted her how awkward her blind boyfriend was.

“Here.” She pushed a flyer in his face. His vision was too blurry for him to make it out quick enough for her liking, so she pulled it back and continued, “Magnus is having a  small, invite-only party this weekend, go to it!”

“He hasn’t invited me – didn’t it say Downworlders?”

She forced air through her lips, rolling her eyes, “Alec, go!”

“When is it?”

“Tonight.”

Alec sat up, “You said this weekend?!”

“Yes, as in tonight.”

“Next time just say tonight!” He jumped to his wardrobe, opening it to the black void of black clothes. He turned to Clary expectant for help. She shrugged looking as lost as he was.

“You’re asking the wrong girl, but I would go for something you’re comfortable in. He knows you.”

“No –” they both turned stunned, Clary had left the door open. Isabelle shut it, “You go in style or not at all. Plus, you were invited, the fire message arrived when you weren’t here.”

“Why would he send a message to the Institute?” Alec hissed appalled, a flaming worry gripping him considering what would have happened had Isabelle not found the message fluttering about the hallway.

“It wasn’t him; it was a _Catarina_.” She smiled, “I like her, she’s an instigator like me.”

Isabelle pushed to the wardrobe, flicking rejects to the floor, and the maybes to the bed. The bed was pitiful, the floor was littered. Both Clary and Alec sat on the only open patch of floor watching her work up a frenzy.

In the end he stood in front of his bathroom mirror with Izzy tweaking his hair into submission. He had on the one shirt in the wardrobe that still had the tag. Their Dad had gotten it for him. It was made of a fine black material accented with a sterling tipped collar, linked by a short chain. Isabelle rolled the sleeves up and inspected their symmetry until she was satisfied. His jeans were new. He argued he wasn’t going to wear his new jeans until he had to, to which he got a slap from both girls for buying clothes for the prospect of his other clothes falling apart.

Clary took pity on him and fought for his right to wear his favourite loose knit jumper that was – with the current trend – baggy enough and distressed enough to seem on purpose. The collar flicked over the top with his new jeans and old scuffed boots made it look smart edgy. According to Isabelle.

-

He knocked; he wasn’t sure if it was too quiet, so his hand hovered over the brass knocker as well. He heard the music halfway down the street, and wouldn’t be surprised if even the Lycan couldn’t hear that knock. He fidgeted with his collar and wondered whether his boots were too grubby, for the first time in years. When he was about to knock again the door opened, Chairman running out and attacking his leg with affection. He picked the cat up for something to hold, and caught Magnus’ stunned face. Catarina obviously hadn’t mentioned her impromptu invite.

Magnus, for the first time since he met him, stood completely lost. Then a woman he hadn’t met yet – but who was slightly familiar – stood to the side of him, “Alec, you arrived. Good!” she extended her hand, “Catarina, the woman with the terrible triplets?”

“The little girl with the antlers?”

“Yes.”

Magnus regained himself watching Chairman nuzzle into Alec’s chest getting white fur over his black jumper. Magnus took him, putting him back to the floor before brushing Alec off with shaking fingers. Catarina disappeared. “Nice shirt.” Magnus tugged the silver collar tips, catching the chain with his ring finger; Alec just shrugged, blushing at Magnus’ little tug.

“Nice eyes.”

Magnus looked confused before seemingly remembering this was a Downworlder party, so he had his Mark on display. Accentuated with copper, knife sharp eyeliner. His lashes extending for days, Alec couldn’t look away even if he wanted too. His memory of those eyes was perfect, like Magnus had scorched him with not only his lips but his eyes too.

“Oh –” he looked away, his Mark flickering.

Alec reached out, and grabbed a part of Magnus’ sheer shirt, turning him back. “Please, I like them.” His eyes flickered again but this time he didn’t glamour them. “I mean I – they’re nice.” Alec bit his tongue to stop.

“Come in Alexander,” Magnus smiled at him. “Your eyes are nice too.”

-

Alec wasn’t a party person so most of the night was spent sat on the sofa with Chairman in his lap, but neither Chairman or any of the Downworlders seemed to mind. He had a few looks, but most people left him alone when they saw Magnus give him a hug and a peck on the cheek that made him turn scarlet in front of so many people.

By the end of the night Catarina sat opposite him watching Magnus play good host thanking everyone for coming. She was mimicking his facial expressions, and stopped abruptly when he finally shut the door on the night. He flopped down in a wicker seat that looked a couple decades past it – even for Alec. Catarina clicked her fingers, and a glass of milk appeared in front of Magnus, a hot chocolate for herself and before his own hand another one.

“Playing it safe. Most people like hot chocolate?”

“I do, thank you.”

Chairman vacated his lap and sat on Magnus’ feet as he blew on his drink. “Hot almond milk. The best nightcap.”

“I’ve never tried it.”

Magnus passed him the drink, but Alec shook his head. “You don’t know what you’re missing.”

They drank together while Alec picked cat hairs from his jumper. Catarina started to talk about her day at the hospital, and how tomorrow was bound to be worse because she had a thirteen-hour shift which meant fifteen. Magnus moaned he had a meeting with a Seelie Knight that didn’t understand Warlock magic at all. Alec even added his own evening with his sister and Clary which made Magnus’ eyes crinkle with a smile.

When Catarina finally left, Alec didn’t know what to do. His drink was gone, the music was off. He didn’t even have the safety of the cat on his lap, but his mind seemed to want to dig his hole further. “I really do like your eyes Magnus, they don’t – creep me out or anything.” He stared at the fireplace biting his tongue.

Magnus laughed, “Good to know, most people don’t like it. They find it hard to look at... It’s not like antlers on a head you can avoid – it’s the eyes.”

“Gateway to the soul.”

“Do Downworlders have souls?”

Alec looked horrified at Magnus’ dead voice and cold question, “Of course, why wouldn’t they?”

“You’re different, Alexander.” Magnus moved off the wicker chair and curled up beside him. Before Alec could adjust himself Magnus laid his head on his chest and wrapped his arm around him. It was an awkward position, if only because Alec went rigid but once he relaxed, Magnus whispered to Chairman eyeing them from the floor. “Well – I can rub my head on him too.”

Alec laughed; he was determined to not let his mind race ahead of itself and explode with emotions this time as he leant his head to rest on Magnus’.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to everyone that has left kudos, a comment or simply just read!
> 
> Tumblr (Mixed Obsessions) - AutumnQuest  
> Twitter (Gaming & Stuff) - AshleighTookey  
> Instagram (Bookstagram & Odd Travel) - AshleighTookey  
> Goodreads - AshTookey


End file.
